Love Has No Borders

By Gwen Kirkwood

Fiercely independent, Marguerite Sinclair has the opportunity of a lifetime to become a nurse and contribute to the war effort in France. Meanwhile Rick who has loved her from the first moment he saw her asks her to marry him before being shipped off to the war front. Despite their distance, he pursues her in a romantic cross-country courtship. She refuses him but soon after begins to realise how strong her feelings for him are in his absence. They manage a few brief meetings during the next two years when Rick has leave, in the meantime, he somehow manages to survive the carnage of world war one unscathed. Unfortunately, Marguerite doesn’t and has a fall on an icy path breaking her wrist and becoming very ill as a result. All her plans are shattered, and she is sent home from the war along with three wounded soldiers to recover. Once recovered she is offered a position nursing the war wounded in Scotland and eventually meets up again with Rick who persuades her to marry him. They end up living in a wing of Silverbeck Hall which they make their home and celebrate the end of the war with all the estates tenants and old friend Lord Hanley, the estate owner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mereo Books
• Release date: Sep 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781370523474

Gwen Kirkwood

Gwen Kirkwood was born on a Yorkshire farm and went to Agricultural College before marrying a Scottish dairy farmer. Their life on a Dumfriesshire farm inspires the authentic background for Gwen's Scottish farming sagas. A long-time member of the Romantic Novelists Association, Gwen won the Elizabeth Goudge trophy back in 2000 and went on to publish two Scotland-based book series with Accent Press, and has written over thirty novels in total.

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LOVE HAS NO

BORDERS

A gripping tale of love in a heart-warming climate

GWEN KIRKWOOD

Smashwords Edition

Romaunce Books

1A The Wool Market Dyer Street Cirencester Gloucestershire GL7 2PR An imprint of Memoirs Publishing www.mereobooks.com

Love Has No Borders:

Published in Great Britain by Romaunce Books, an imprint of Memoirs Publishing Ltd.

Gwen Kirkwood has asserted her right under the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

The moral of the author is asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

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The Memoirs Publishing Group Ltd Reg. No. 7834348

Books in this series by Gwen Kirkwood

Book 1 Moorland Mist

Book 2 Moorend Farm

Book 3 Return to Bonnybrae

Book 4 A Scottish Destiny

Book 5 Love has no Borders

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

One

A chance conversation with Lord Tannahill, a recent acquaintance, had alerted Adrian Fortescue to an astonishing possibility and offered him reason to ponder, and a chance to dream, however impossible those dreams might seem.

Adrian, known to his tenants and staff, as Lord Hanley, was the owner of the Silverbeck Estate, including all the farms for several miles around as well as the Silverbeck Hall and surrounding grounds and the whole of Silverbeck village. He commanded respect, more because he was a kind and honest individual, and a fair landlord, than because of his substantial wealth. Yet he was not a happy man. He had lost both his sons in the Great War but while his beloved wife had lived they had shared their grief. Now he had no one to soothe his uncertainties about the future for he had no family to inherit, not even distant cousins. Yet this recent new friendship with Lord Tannahill had brought an unexpected glimmer of hope.

If anyone had told him he would seek counselling, much less confide the family’s secrets with the modest wife of one of his own tenants he would have declared the idea absurd. He could not have said what prompted him to visit Moorend Farm and talk so frankly to Emma Sinclair, although he had learned to respect both Emma and her husband William, for their discretion and wisdom, as much as for their hard work and diligence as tenants. They had moved to Yorkshire from Scotland as a young couple with a baby son and taken on Moorend Farm when it was the most derelict and neglected place on the Silverbeck Estate. Over the years they had developed it into one of the best farms in the area with excellent cattle and horses which they bred and reared with pride, but it was not their success which led him to confide in Emma. He simply yearned to share his secret hopes with someone, and he knew instinctively that he could trust Emma Sinclair to be discreet. He considered that, being a woman, she might also understand Dorothea Whitelea’s situation better than he did himself, especially since he knew the Sinclairs had had their own secrets to keep when they first arrived in Silverbeck as his tenants. It was only when Jamie, their eldest son, was thirteen years old that the truth about his birth had emerged. Ashamed when he was called a bastard by boys at school, he had run away to his Scottish grandparents in search of the truth.

Bob Rowbottom, the Silverbeck land agent, had heard the rumours and passed them on but neither he nor Lord Hanley had judged Emma and William for their human failings. Apparently one of the boys at school had overheard his elders gossiping and subsequently he had taunted Jamie Sinclair. There had been a serious fight between the boys at school when it was revealed that Jamie’s parents had only been married the day before they arrived at Moorend, although Jamie was already several weeks old.

Adrian Fortescue, the man, was an ordinary human being, at heart. He had experienced joys and sorrows of his own. He understood a little of the shame Emma would have felt if she had arrived as a stranger and her secret had become common knowledge before they could earn the respect of the local people. He also sympathised with Jamie’s shock and subsequent misery as well as his fear that he didn’t really belong to the large and loving Sinclair family, even though that had proved to be misplaced for he was the youthful image of William Sinclair.

Whatever had happened in Emma Sinclair’s past Lord Hanley knew she had a kind heart and she was blessed with a wisdom beyond her years. It was for this reason he found himself at Moorend prepared to confide in her regarding a secret which clearly filled Dorothea Winkworth, or Whitelea, as she was now, with shame and humiliation. Yet it was this secret which had awakened his own hopes and dreams for the future. He couldn’t blame any of his tenants for speculating about their futures as tenants of the Silverbeck Estate. Their daily lives depended on it – and on him. Everyone assumed, as he himself had believed, that he had no heir to carry on the estate after the deaths of Richard and Douglas, during the last year of the war.

The conversation between himself and Lord Tannahill had become more convivial, and their tongues liberated, by the brandies they had enjoyed. They had progressed to Christian names of Fordyce and Adrian. An exchange of confidences had followed after they had cast aside their habitual reserve. This was all the more surprising considering it was the first time Fordyce Redpath and his nephew, Rupert, had been to Silverbeck. While passing a group of family photographs in the hallway of Silverbeck Hall, Fordyce Redpath had remarked on the amazing resemblance between Richard and Douglas and the eight-year-old grandson of Fordyce’s neighbour in Gloucestershire, Sir Thomas Winkworth. The name of Winkworth had caught Adrian’s attention but in his merry state it did not register as clearly as it might have done.

When Fordyce’s nephew entered later his attention, quite independently of his uncle’s earlier interest, was also caught by the photographs of Lord Hanley’s sons. There were several of Richard and Douglas as boys, and a more recent photograph of each of them in uniform. Rupert studied them curiously, drawing Lord Hanley’s attention more acutely.

Later in the evening, when they were on their own again, and after more brandy than either were in the habit of drinking, Fordyce remarked, ‘They say we all have a double but I can’t believe how closely my neighbour’s grandson resembles your elder son, Adrian, even the way the boy sits his pony. We see him quite often because Sir Thomas Winkworth owns a small estate adjoining mine in Gloucestershire. He brings the boy to the hunt with him now that he’s so proficient, or at least he did, but Winkworth’s health has deteriorated recently. The resemblance is uncanny. Even Rupert noticed and I never think he is the most observant of young men.’

Adrian was silent for a moment, his mind a little hazy, and his words a trifle slurred.

‘I remember Richard was engaged to a girl named Thea, yes Dorothea Winkworth. She came from Gloucestershire. Lady Hanley and I were very fond of her but we felt let down and disillusioned when she failed to keep in touch after Richard was killed. She had stayed with us several times but she didn’t even return to Silverbeck for the memorial service. Shortly afterwards we heard she had married an old friend and neighbour by the name of Whitelea.

‘Whitelea?’ Fordyce sat up straight.‘Winkworth’s grandson is named Ricky Whitelea. I recall Thea did make a hasty marriage,’ Lord Tannahill reflected, but his mind was also a little unclear. ‘I remember she gave birth to the boy barely seven months later, though rumours had it that her husband had been too badly injured during the war to sire a child. Whitelea was a decent man. He died eighteen months ago. His estate had to be sold. Thea and young Rick returned to live with Sir Thomas Winkworth. Although the boy is still quite young he is an excellent horseman. Thea used to ride to hounds too but we didn’t see much of her after she married.’

The two men had gone on with their ramblings and eventually Fordyce convinced Lord Hanley so many coincidences were extraordinary.

‘I think you should see the boy for yourself, Adrian. You are more than welcome to visit me at my home in Gloucestershire whenever you wish. I could arrange a meeting with the Winkworths.’

‘I confess you and your nephew have aroused my interest,’ Lord Hanley admitted. ‘If Thea was expecting Richard’s child it would explain why she did not return for the memorial service. My wife was so hurt at the time. We seemed to have lost so much, losing both our sons. I would certainly like to see the boy, but it would be better if Thea could be persuaded to visit here and bring him with her. Perhaps we could persuade her to attend a wedding which I am holding here at the Hall?’

‘A wedding?’ Fordyce echoed in surprise. ‘Your own?’

‘Good Lord, no.’ Fordyce shook his head. ‘I have persuaded William Sinclair, one of my best tenants, to allow me to hold the wedding reception here at Silverbeck Hall for his daughter, Marie. She is to marry Mark Blackford, whom you obviously know very well. I believe your nephew, Rupert, is to be best man. Both Marie and Mark have worked for me here at the Hall so it will give me great pleasure to give them, and the rest of my tenants, a day to remember.’ He sighed. ‘I admit I shall miss their youth and energy and their cheerful smiles. If dreams can come true and you have discovered I have a grandson it would be the greatest gift on God’s good earth as far as I’m concerned.’

It had taken more than a personal invitation to a wedding at Silverbeck to persuade Dorothea to attend. Lord Tannahill had used all his powers of persuasion to induce the Winkworths to attend. In the end he had resorted to a frank talk with Dorothea’s father in private. Sir Thomas Winkworth was far from well since a bad bout of bronchitis the previous winter so it was understandable that he had little notion to travel all the way to Yorkshire to the wedding of a young couple he barely knew and he sensed Dorothea was reluctant to visit Silverbeck again in spite of the warm invitations she had received from Lady Hanley after Richard’s death. He had never understood her reasons for cutting herself off so completely. In desperation Lord Tannahill could see no other way and he put the case bluntly. He voiced his doubts that the late Thomas Whitelea could be the father of Dorothea’s son and if he was not the boy’s father, then who was? What had the boy to lose if it turned out that Lord Hanley was his grandfather? He might have much to gain. Lord Tannahill was considerate of people’s feelings and he was alarmed when Winkworth clutched his chest and slumped into a chair, pale with shock. Eventually he recovered with the help of a drink of wine. Once he understood the reason behind the wedding invitation, he stuck to his decision to accept Lord Hanley’s invitation to Silverbeck.

‘It may be the last chance I shall have to travel again,’ he told Dorothea, ‘and I liked Lord and Lady Hanley on the two occasions we met before Richard was killed. You know I always felt we should have gone to his memorial service.’

‘But Father it is such a long journey and you are not so fit since your last illness,’ Dorothea protested.

‘Fordyce Redpath has offered to drive us in his car. His nephew, Rupert, is best man at the wedding so he and his mother are travelling up a day earlier. Fordyce has bought a small second hand car for Rupert to drive there.’ Winkworth frowned. ‘He said something about Rupert leaving the car for the bride and groom as a surprise wedding gift from him and his family. We shall not be the only guests staying at Silverbeck Hall. Apparently Mark Blackford, the groom, is some sort of relation to Lord Tannahill. He and Rupert were often here together during holidays from school and university. Rupert’s mother will be returning home with us and leaving Rupert to travel by train with some of his friends who will be at the wedding.

It had taken only one glance at Ricky Whitelea for Lord Hanley to realise the boy must be Richard’s son.

He looked exactly as Richard had been at the same age. He had the same wide smile and mischievous glint in his blue eyes. After the meal and formalities were over Fiona Sinclair, youngest sister of the bride, had clasped the hand of her young niece, Marguerite, who was a flower girl. She had grasped the long skirts of her pretty bridesmaid’s dress and they had chased her brother David and his new friend, Rick Whitelea, around the large garden, playing hide and seek or tag amidst a great deal of laughter. Rick had not been away to school yet so he had rarely played with anyone his own age and he enjoyed having new friends. He didn’t want the day to end. He had been gentle and patient with Marguerite because her legs were too short to run as fast as his. He didn’t want to go to bed that evening. He didn’t want to go home the next day either. He pleaded with his Grandfather Winkworth and his mother to let him visit his new friends. Lord Hanley was delighted at this reaction. He invited Dorothea to prolong their visit. She refused. He sensed her agitation. She had been such an innocent, wide eyed young girl when Richard first brought her to Silverbeck. Happiness had shone in her dark eyes and she had the sweetest smile. Now she seemed reluctant to be in his company and she didn’t meet his eyes when he addressed her. It made him unhappy to see her looking so anxious and tense.

Having seen the boy for himself Lord Hanley was convinced Rick Whitelea was Richard’s son. Physically he was almost the image of the young Richard but he also had mannerisms which reminded him of Douglas and of his late wife, the way she had tilted her head to one side as though listening intently. How he wished she could have been here to share this discovery with him. How happy she would have been to know that a little bit of Richard still existed in the form of this sturdy small boy with his jolly laugh. She would have known how to put Dorothea at ease, how to draw out the truth and let Dorothea know how welcome she would be if she would come to visit them often.

Two

Lord Hanley was not sure how he could expect Emma Sinclair to help him but he found himself confiding in her anyway. She was a woman who owed nothing to education or lineage but she had an understanding of human nature and she was astute. When he tried to explain the situation she understood Dorothea’s feelings at once, even while she sympathised with his yearning to get to know the little boy whom he was now convinced was his grandson. Emma didn’t question his conviction about the child. She had already heard Mr and Mrs Rowbottom, as well as the Wrights from the Smiddy, voicing opinions on the amazing resemblance of the boy to the eldest son of Lord and Lady Hanley. They had spoken in wonder and without malice.

Also, Bob Rowbottom had called at Moorend, in his capacity of land agent two days after the wedding. He needed to discuss the possibility of them taking on the tenancy of Mountcliffe Farm for Alan, their second son. As usual these days he came into the kitchen with William for a cup of coffee and one of Emma’s freshly baked scones.

‘My wife and I gasped when we saw Miss Dorothea entering the church with her father and the child,’ he said. ‘We both realised immediately the boy must be Richard’s son. He is the image of him. Joe Wright, the blacksmith, said the same thing.’

Emma suspected several of the other people who had lived in Silverbeck all their lives had probably made similar comments.

She faced their landlord uneasily. It was not her place to advise Lord Hanley on anything and especially something so personal, but he had asked for her opinion on how he should proceed with Thea when she didn’t want to discuss the child, or anything else. Emma took a deep breath.

‘I can understand that Mrs Whitelea will need time to accept that you feel only benevolence towards her and her child.’ She shivered inwardly, remembering there had been nothing but malice towards herself from William’s mother. Even William had never forgiven her bitter recriminations and spite. ‘Perhaps, Lord Hanley, you could accept Lord Tannahill’s invitations to visit him at his home? You would see Mrs Whitelea in her own surroundings. She might feel more confident, more secure, and more able to answer any questions you want to ask. I can understand her feelings. It takes time to – to believe in people’s goodwill. So many are ready to condemn our mistakes. It is difficult to trust anyone if we already feel shame or guilt,’ Emma suggested diffidently. She understood only too well how Mrs Dorothea Whitelea must feel. ‘You did say her family were neighbours and attended the same local functions as Lord Tannahill?’ ‘Yes, it was at the hunt that Lord Tannahill’s nephew first saw Rick. Rupert says he sits his pony well and clearly enjoys it. Richard was a splendid horseman.’ There was a note of pride and longing in his tone.

‘Then surely you should accept Lord Tannahill’s invitation to visit? He does not strike me as the sort of man to issue an invitation unless he means it. If you were to meet the Winkworths at local functions perhaps you will be able to convince Mrs Whitelea she still has your respect and liking. She will need time to learn to trust you.’ Lord Hanley looked at Emma doubtfully.

‘She must know how I feel. We always made her welcome at Silverbeck Hall.’

‘Maybe you did then, but consider how she must feel now the circumstances have changed so drastically, for her, as much as for you and Lady Hanley. She not only lost the man she loved, but she also lost the father of her child, if I understand the situation correctly?’

‘I have no doubt Richard is the boy’s father. If there is any shame then he must share the blame for it. He would never expect to die and leave Thea with his child.’

‘Neither of them would expect fate could be so cruel. It will take time and patience to convince Mrs Whitelea you truly want to get to know her for herself, as well as for her son. I-I can understand she will need reassurance. It may take several visits to convince her you do not blame her and she need not feel shame or guilt with you.’

‘I see,’ Lord Hanley said slowly. ‘I am not a patient man, but I shall try. Thank you Emma. I knew you would understand.’ Emma blushed. Their landlord never used the Christian names of any of his tenants, even less their wives. Despite his title and position she realised he was as human as any other man when he was troubled. He sighed heavily. ‘You see things from a woman’s point of view. I miss my wife so badly. She would have known how to handle the delicate subject of Rick’s birth. You are too polite to say so but she would have said I am too eager. I want everything out in the open. I want to rejoice in the fact that I have a grandson. I want the world to know.’

‘It may take some time to convince the boy’s mother that you do not pity her, or worse, regard her with – with disapproval for her – her past,’ Emma stammered, remembering her own humiliation. ‘She clearly loves her young son. He is a happy child. We all saw that at the wedding.’

‘If only we had known.’ Lord Hanley sighed again. ‘It was only a few months after Douglas’s death that we heard Richard was missing and then the confirmation of his death too. There was no funeral for him but we held a memorial service in the church. Dorothea did not come. Then we heard she had married Whitelea, a man she had known all her life…’ Lord Hanley could not hide the disappointment which they had felt. Emma felt it would take some time for real understanding and a true reconciliation on both sides.

Bob Rowbottom, the land agent, had had several meetings with William Sinclair to discuss taking over the tenancy of Mountcliffe but they had not reached a firm conclusion. It was the largest farm on the Silverbeck Estate and it was presently farmed by Gerry Wilkins, but for the past year, or more, rumours had circulated that he was giving up the tenancy, leaving his wife and grown up daughter and going to live in a cottage near the coast with Miss Cody, the daughter of the previous vicar. No one really believed Thora Wilkins would allow her husband to escape her selfish clutches. She regularly reminded people she was the wife of the largest tenant, while Irene Wilkins was as condescending as her mother. Gentle Miss Cody was popular with most of the people in the village, whatever transgressions she might be committing by communing with a married man.

‘Is it really going to happen then?’ William asked sceptically. ‘The rumours have been circulating for more than a year, first one thing, then another. Alan and his lassie keep getting their hopes up, only to be disappointed when Gerry Wilkins changes his plans again. Has he actually given notice?’

‘Yes he has. No going back this time. I have his notice in writing, though I don’t think Thora knows that. He is due to quit at the end of September – shorter notice than usual but I needed to tie him down this time.’

‘I can’t believe Thora will let him get away with it.

We all know she’s the boss.’

‘I believe he will have been to hell and back before he actually gets away from her,’ Bob Rowbottom conceded with a shrug, ‘but he is determined this time. Everybody knows about him and Miss Cody. Nobody seems to blame her, or Gerry. Thora is a cold fish if ever there was one and she’s mean with everybody, especially the workers. At one point she tried to persuade me to let her keep on the tenancy herself but neither she nor Irene know one end of a cow from the other, even less how to care for animals or grow crops. I told her if she had had a son coming on, who had shown a real interest in farming, then Lord Hanley might have considered giving them a trial.’

‘I don’t suppose she gave you any praise for that,’ William chuckled. ‘According to the Wrights she barred poor old Gerry from the bedroom after Irene was born. She told him she had no intention of going through that again for any man.’

‘Aye, I’ve heard that story myself. The Wrights hear all the gossip sooner or later with Joe being the blacksmith. Has he told you that Gerry has booked the auctioneers to hold the sale at Mountcliffe?’

‘No! We hadna heard that! He’ll be selling everything then?’

‘So I believe. He says whoever is taking over the tenancy will have to bid for anything they want. He plans to buy a cottage for his wife and Irene near Penistone. She has a cousin living there. He told me he would like a divorce so he can make an honest woman of Miss Cody but Thora will not hear of it. He reckons he’ll hold back any money settlement until she agrees.’ Bob Rowbottom shrugged and raised his eyebrows. ‘I do believe he has found his backbone at last. He should have stood up to Thora years ago. You don’t know what a lucky man you are William Sinclair. Not many men have a wife like yours.’

‘I know that,’ William agreed with a smile.

‘So, shall I tell Lord Hanley you’re ready to sign the lease, you and your sons jointly? I believe he’s been at Moorend a few times recently but he’s not